“Mama said,

‘There’ll be days like this,’

‘There’ll be days like this,’ Mama said.”

The Shirelles, “Mama Said”

Coming down with some virus most likely, as the school nurse says it doesn’t look like strep throat (despite the sore throat that’s making it hard to lecture).  I can deal with that.

Headache, only ’bout a 4 out of 10, not so bad of itself. I can deal with that.

Ditto the tinnitus, which alas, seems to be making it more difficult to understand people, especially those students more than a few feet away from me, which is most of the time — why do the most soft-spoken students sit in the back corner?  The auditory processing glitches don’t help, either; I’m sure some of the students think I’m not paying attention, or am losing my hearing.  At least no one is going around yelling to me in the mistaken impression that volume = clarity.

Five hours sleep.  Definitely need to get to sleep sooner, and I would were it not for the class prep I have to do before and after classes.  Okay, now it’s getting really challenging.  I’m dropping words in the middle of my sentences once or twice an hour, and does that ever make me feel stupid.

I’m hungry because I didn’t eat much due to the sore throat & canker sore.

Two of the pieces of paper I really needed to have with me were not in my binder.  No, I’m sorry, I don’t remember the date of the next exam right off the top of my head.  No, I’m sorry, I haven’t memorized the ID labels to all of the slides (but I can tell you what’s important about the slide).

We were reviewing the results of the first exam.  This is the first college-level science class that many of the students have had, and some of them haven’t had a science class in years.  Bumpy ride.  It’s also the first full exam I have written, and every teacher knows the hidden hazards of writing such.

For some reason I decided to hand the graded exams out, rather than just letting the students pick their own test up.  I’m faceblind, and have not yet memorized the seating chart.  Definite planning error on my part.

My PowerPoint — that delightful gizmo that helps keep the tired, the distracted, the forgetful, the sick, and the first-time teacher from losing track of the game plan — the PowerPoint file on my flashdrive proved to be an older version that did not have the other half of the slides I needed to remind me what I was going to tell the class this evening. That too, of itself I could deal with, although the presentation was not at smooth as I would have liked, and we had to go back a few times and fill in something I had not mentioned earlier.

But all of these things together, oy vey!  I muddled through everything, but did not feel very brilliant or smooth.  I didn’t even have all of the lab equipment fully prepped because I had rushed in right before class.

And then shortly after class started, one of the professors came in to do a surprise Observation of me as a new instructor.

At least I didn’t have my trouser zip left undone, or have a strip of toilet paper (loo roll) stuck to my boot!

Mama said there’ll be days like this …

Depiling

That is, de-pile-ing*.

* Not to be confused with depilling, which is trimming off those annoying “pills” that form on knitted garments. Presumably those wee balls of fuzz form due to the blasted orneryness of the universe, especially with regards to the cosmos’ dreaded knack for providing supplemental stress to anyone with OCD tendencies.

Depiling means to systematically remove piles of clutter.  On my desk, that means not just the usual bills, statements and paperwork, but also:

  • documents to be scanned,
  • Copy Center requisition forms,
  • old appointment cards and unnecessary receipts unloaded from my pockets and other ephemera,
  • 35mm slides to be scanned,
  • an empty postage-stamp strip,
  • wire twist-ties,
  • caps to ball-point pens I don’t even use,
  • hort industry infomercials masquerading as press releases or “educational materials”,
  • spare tins of lip balm and cuticle salve,
  • important receipts to file,
  • a really cool concave rock to use as a water dish when I refresh Rosie’s habitat,
  • the booklet on Inservice courses for Job #2 that I cannot attend because of Job #1,
  • beads that are still surfacing from when the curtain tie-back snapped last month,
  • the previous week’s market and dinner menu list,
  • the catalog that lists the non-credit classes I teach (Job #3),
  • fluffs of white, tan, brown or orange hair from our four cats,
  • exam schedules for the two classes I’m teaching,
  • fragments of adhesive bandage wrappers and other débris,
  • my Immunization Record that needs to be updated (Pneumovax, hooray),
  • paperwork for a student’s disability accommodations,
  • a spare lint-roller to remove light cat hair from dark clothes & reversi-wise (vide infra),
  • music CDs to add to my iTunes,
  • a collection of pages of notes for teaching methods to integrate,
  • random paperclips,
  • the manilla folder of notes and drafts to a research paper for which I need to comment,
  • empty prescription bottles, the pages on Inservice courses for Job #1,
  • drained pens,
  • duplicate bills to magazines I love but can’t really afford to renew and don’t have time to read anyway (not even at the library where they’re free),
  • a button that may or may not go to a garment any of us currently wears,
  • Personnel Absence Report receipts,
  • my weekly pill-minder that I set on my MacBook when I go to bed to remind myself when I wake up,
  • blank index cards that I use for my To Do lists I keep in my pocket,
  • and of course, the assorted no-longer-sticky notes, some of which still list things I need to do, and a couple that bear tantalizingly cryptic notes for blog-post ideas.

For anyone out there who is chronically cluttered or ADHD, none of these things is surprising.  That I manage to keep track of three different jobs in addition to various other personal and professional responsibilities is nothing short of amazing. That I also have chronic free-floating anxiety about forgetting something Very Important is also not surprising.

Back in the early 1980’s, I stayed home with our tots and was a free-lance writer.  Anyone who has done this knows that one never fills either role as well as they would like, and that the paying job doesn’t pay well because it’s part-time, and the non-parenting hours (and even the parenting hours) are filled with trying to cram in tasks edge-wise.

Because I was working for several employers simultaneously while also sending out queries to magazines, the sheer amount of paper to keep straight and deadlines to meet and the inevitable scheduling glitches (the can’t do This because I gotta do That but-before I can do That I gotta do The Other Thing) damn near drove me nuts.  I know my frantic moments and frustrations and disorganisation damn near drove my family nuts some days as well.

The number of times I forgot my hair cut appointments were an embarrassment. The number of times I would get home and then had to go back out to drop something off or pick something up were legion. At that time, ADHD had only recently hit the DSM, and people usually associated such with hyperactive boys.  I wouldn’t get my own diagnosis until 20 years later.

Like many people with ADHD, I felt terrible about my inability to stay organised.  It wasn’t that I didn’t care.  It wasn’t that I didn’t try.  I tried appointment books and made lists and made calendars and made lists and re-organised my paper filing system and made lists … and still I failed to keep track of stuff.  I even managed to lose track of a check by using it as a bookmark! (Reading that Einstein did the same thing was mollifying, but would not have impressed the bank.)

The problem of course is not a lack of willpower.  It’s not always a problem with writing things down — after all, I HAD that calendar and the lists.  The problem was “remembering to remember”, meaning remember to check the lists and the calendar at the appropriate times, especially with regards to calling people during “normal” business hours.  The problem was putting things into the Things To Do pile, and then not remembering to get them done before they were due.

Of course, the reason that everything I was using was piled on top of my desk was that out-of-sight meant out-of-mind.  (Plus, there were the random moments of putting Very Important Objects in Safe Places and then forgetting where they were.)  The only way to literally have everything in sight would have been to cover an entire wall in cork tiles and buy a gross of push-pins.  But other factors prevented this, including the fact that my first home “office” was nothing more than a shelf in the linen closet where I stored postal supplies, manilla folders, and an antique typewriter that was so painfully cranky it would have even given pause to a steampunk enthusiast.

Eventually I did learn how to develop enabling routines.  One of those is what I have spent the past half an hour doing, whilst also scanning various documents and slides, and working on this blogpost, because hey — multi-tasking is what we like to do!

I make it a point to de-clutter my desktop every Friday or weekend.

Not only do I remove the trashy bits, but I also rediscover things I need to attend to on a regular basis, refill my pill minder, pay any bills that are due, and I check my calendar and re-assess what my new To Do list needs to include.

Fortunately, the decluttering has gotten easier over the years, as I finally realised what general categories of clutter pile up.

  • I have the wastepaper basket at hand to dump rubbish into.
  • I have a place to set all the papers that simply need filing.
  • I have a desk hutch with shelves for each of my classes and jobs, and to improve upon that file-by-pile method I also have brightly-colored folders to fine-sort each pile.
  • I make a separate pile of things that need to go elsewhere, and not until everything is sorted do I make just one loop around the house to put those away.
  • If I have a set of papers that is turning into a new project to keep track of, I grab another folder to put them in.
  • I review my small bulletin board and remove old things I no longer need, and tack up new things I don’t want to lose — part of what makes a small board effective is that it does not stay the same week after week — constancy means a loss of apparency as it simply becomes part of the scenery and thus unnoticed.

Well, the scanning is done, so I need to wrap this up and make up a test for Monday (et cetera).  The other part of what makes the system work is to not get so wrapped up in tidying and organising that I don’t get back to the actual work!

Prescription for Biological Control

(oops! I thought I had Published this post earlier; wrong button.)

a ladybeetle crawls down the middle of a weekly pill-sorter box

a ladybeetle crawls down the middle of a weekly pill-sorter box

Backwards Symphonies

“It’s been a long week — I bet you’re ready to decompose.”

I stared at my husband, blinking through the mental fog of too-many-jobs-not-enough-sleep.

“I’m not ready for the compost pile yet,” I replied, trying to figure out what his latest malapropism was meant to be.

“Or whatever the term is,” he added.

My brain finally catches up. “Decompress,” I answered.

What an incredibly long week.  I can’t remember the last time I had one like this, and in my over-busy world that’s saying something.

Wednesday last week I had a pneumonia vaccination, which left my arm so sore I couldn’t take off my jogbra without assistance, nor even get my hand up to head level until the weekend.  Moreover, Read the rest of this entry »

When smart people are stupid

So I’m getting the first day of class materials organised, and looking at the online class Web application.  The instructor and students can both use it for sharing documents, so tomorrow I will have to demonstrate to the students how to access the program, and where I will put files for them. The instructor can also use it to record grades and attendance.

I look at the roster, noting that there are two guys with the same common first name,

Robert

Robert

But otherwise nothing potentially problematic until I come across an unfamiliar name.  Bulgarian, maybe?  Slovak?

Demo

I then look at the family name,

Student

Oh, duh!

_____________

* Maybe Demo is related to the statistician who came up with the Student’s t-distribution test   /joke

Bridge: Do Not Add Water

Driver's view of road overpass crossing a stretch of rural interstate highway

The War On … Idiotic Metaphors

I think that ’bout sums it up.

When “Humor” is Not A Laughing Matter

When we watch old movies or programs, read old books, listen to old audio recordings, it quickly become apparent that tastes in humor change, mostly due to evolving senses of what is appropriate for being laughed at. There are racist and sexist and disableist jokes that are only painful to hear, because it is embarrassing to realize that some people find/found their humor in the ridicule of demeaning others. When the “Jokes you cannot tell in mixed company” have turned into “Jokes you wouldn’t even want to tell in any kind of company”, you get some hope that maybe society is growing up … just a little bit.

Or, not.

An upcoming movie is such an example of humor that fails its efforts to parody. Much of comedy has to be “cutting edge” to have the surprise value.  It pushes at the borders of acceptable behavior, and relies on our ability to laugh as a means of dealing with stress.  Treading the edges of propriety can be rich source, but can also backfire if the comedian does not have a good sense of the audience and of the purpose of their material.

Satire is a particular type of humor; by definition it is designed to “make fun of something” — but to a purpose.  It illuminates personal and social problems that we had not really thought about or could not easily discuss, and cleverly uses humor to deflect some of the tension that would have otherwise occurred.  Its tools are heavy irony and sarcasm, puns and wordplay, and parodies and comparisons.  Properly used satire is wit that seeks to improve society, rather than simply demeaning people. But satire can be misinterpreted.  Sometimes the result is more serious than mock-serious, and the audience does not understand that the performer is not really advocating, or believing in what they are presenting.

Comedy can also be misused when poorly-done attempts at humor are sometimes passed off as “satire”. There is a big difference between laughing with someone, and laughing at someone. Attacking someone and then saying, “Oh, it’s just a joke; whatsamatter, can’t you take a joke?” is not true humor. This is “humor” derived from a feeling of superiority, using shame and derision. As I said, satire is wit that seeks to improve society, rather than simply demeaning people.  Parody can be a part of satire, but just parody is not necessarily satire.  Parody can easily slide into snide efforts that not only lack sacred cows, but also lack sensibility and purpose.  Just because you can say something doesn’t mean you should.

And that’s where we seem to be with major parts of this Tropic Thunder movie, that seeks to make fun of many foibles of the movie industry and the whole genre of war movies.  Granted, those are certainly rich sources for parody.

But the line gets crossed when start throwing around the R-word, retard. (Transcript of the scene, and trailer.) No one gives a second thought to using the R-word, even would they would refrain from saying faggot, nigger, kike or any number of other categorically insulting terms. Most people don’t stop to think that it is inherently demeaning to call someone a “Re-tard”. Why?  Because compared to other minorities, it’s still “open season” for insulting people with disabilities.  It’s assumed to be socially acceptable just because disabled people are considered to be inherently unequal.  Most people don’t even give it a second thought.

If this movie is released without edit, I am going to spend the next year hearing kids use the quote, “never go full retard” and cringing and having to bring them up short as to why that word usage is Not Appropriate.  They will of course dismiss my concerns by saying that it’s “just a word” and “no one cares” and “everyone says it” and that it’s their “freedom of speech” and I’m “just being over-sensitive” and “don’t have a sense of humor”.  It’s always an uphill battle for justice when you first have to point out the injustice, and then explain why the things people are doing are wrong, and then get them to believe you, before you can even insist that people change their habits, and then help change social values.  Just read the comments on Patricia E Bauer’s blog post about the movie.

The verb “to retard” means to hinder or delay, and “mentally retarded” is still frequently used to refer to someone who has significant difficulties in learning speed and ability.  But there is no nice usage for addressing someone as a Retard.  It doesn’t even matter whether or not the person being described or addressed as Retard has such problems.  As I have described before, Retard is simply an insulting word. Using the word er, retards efforts at eliminating disablism.

And yet an alarmingly large number of people can’t understand why it’s a problem or why the movie shouldn’t be edited.  This is going to be a long, uphill effort.

Here is a video put together by ASAN about the word; it’s captioned.

In Which We Stop by the Letters E and A

(Thankfully this is a much pleasanter alphabetic tour than when we visited the Letter D or the Letter R.)

I am pleased to announce that I have had TWO awards bestowed upon me!  (”Aw, shucks…” she blushes.)  So without further ado (because these are inadvertantly WAY overdue), I would like to explain them, give my own nominations, and importantly, add in an extra stipulation.

Ideally, I would add in some lovingly-crafted paragraphs describing intriguing details as to why each of my nominees so deserved the award.  Alas, I am up against a deadline from a college secretary who needs my handout masters for copying, and we all know that making secretaries annoyed is very bad form.  Instead, I shall aim for a few tantalising adjectives and let you enjoy discovering some new, fabulous blogs!

A black and white graphic with the inscription, "Excellent" at the top, a tilted capital E in the center, and at the bottom, the phrase, "This blog is Rated E for Excellent".

A black and white graphic with the inscription, "Excellent" at the top, a tilted capital E in the center, and at the bottom, the phrase, "This blog is Rated E for Excellent".

So, way back on April 20th, Shiva nominated me for this award, and I somehow missed the whole event at the time. (It’s not the first time I was in the bathroom or where-ever when someone needed to make an announcement — how was I to know?)

The Mommy Project began the award, with the stipulation:

By accepting this Excellent Blog Award, you have to award it to 10 more people whose blogs you find Excellent Award worthy. You can give it to as many people as you want but please award at least 10.

Wow, TEN people.  It’s not that I can’t think of ten great blogs, but rather, how do I choose?  (Plus, I would like to nominate folks whom I’ve not nominated for other awards, and of course, there’s the inevitable issue of finding bloggers that weren’t already nominated…)

My nominations are:

  • Young Female Scientist who frequently kvetches from the lab bench, and often has pithy things to say about the socio-political side of research
  • Annette of Fun With Play-Dough has a wicked sense of the absurd about politics, parenting, and an incredible ability to find strange news items
  • Ms Cornelius at A Shrewdness of Apes whose reports from the circus of high school only sound improbable to non-educators
  • Epi Wonk slices, dices and juliennes absurd epidemiology reporting, and also deconstructs claims in an exceptionally clear manner
  • Elizabeth of Screw Bronze! who ostensibly did not become perilously sick to corner the market on Goth Hello Kitty bandages
  • no-nonsense abfh, who is always thought-provoking
  • the Midlife and Treachery blog; imfunnytoo manages to squeeze an impressive amount of social analysis from events that only seem mundane on the surface
  • Ira of SpeEdChange who’s all about accessibility and advocacy and movies
  • Piss Poor Prof at Burnt Out Adjunct, who is unwittingly providing something of a mentorship by pointing out road hazards
  • the ornery gang at Skepchick who also make me feel not so alone (I know with whom I want to go elbow-lifting)
A statuette of an angel in a strapless blue gown, standing upon a gold-colored wave with the title, "Arte y Pico" curved onto th einside of the wave

A statuette of an angel in a strapless blue gown, standing upon a gold-colored wave with the title, "Arte y Pico" curved onto the inside of the wave

Well, as if that wasn’t enough, on the 4th of July TherExtras nominated me for a really interesting award, the Arte y Pico.  Only I didn’t get any message telling me such.  In fact, it was only because every once in a while I go back and look through my WordPress “dashboard” section that tells me who has linked to my blog, that I discovered that Excavator had also nominated me for this same award, on August 6th.

1. Pick five blogs that you consider deserve this award for their creativity, design, interesting material, and also for contributing to the blogging community, no matter what language.
2. Each award must have the name of the author and a link to his or her blog to be visited by everyone.
3. Each award winner must show the award and put the name and link to the blog that has given her or him the award itself. Award-winner and the one who has given the prize have to show the link of “Arte y Pico” blog, so everyone will know the origin of this award.

My nominations are:

  • The talented Bev at Asperger Square 8 who creates the most amazing satirical products and cartoons
  • Wheelchair Dancer whose dance company #1 on my list for seeing, should our locations ever synch
  • Uphilldowndale whose photographs of daily life and scenery in northern England make me dretfully unhomesick
  • gluten-free girl who makes me wish I spent fewer evenings staring dumbly at the fridge trying to remember what it was I was going to make for dinner
  • Randall of xkcd, who proves that stick figures and cartooning are not incompatible with high concepts and erudite geekitude

All this makes me realise that I need to update my blogroll, but in addition to everything else I have to go to market today, so that’s not going to happen for quite a while.

As for my extra stipulation, it’s this:

WHEN YOU NOMINATE SOMEONE FOR AN AWARD,

SEND THEM AN E-MAIL OR POST A COMMENT ON THEIR BLOG.

So they know.  And don’t have to discover it accidentally, long, long down the road. Thank you.

And, thank you three for the awards, and thank you all for sharing your thoughts with the world by blogging!

Not Flapping My Lips

(”Flapping one’s lips” is American slang meaning to stand around talking, usually about nothing important, or gossiping, e.g., the disdainful address, “Don’t you just be standing around there flappin’ your lips.” )

“All that is required for evil to prevail is for good men to do nothing.”
~Edmund Burke

“It is very tempting to take the side of the perpetrator. All the perpetrator asks is that the bystander do nothing. He appeals to the universal desire to see, hear, and speak no evil. The victim, on the contrary, asks the bystander to share the burden of pain. The victim demands action, engagement, and remembering.”
~Judith Herman

I’m planning ahead for a script to use sometime again soon, because like many people I suffer terribly from l’Esprit de l’escalier, and can never think of the bon mot or good retort or thought-provoking reply until the moment has long passed …

Sometimes when I get excited, I flap a bit. As in, my hands shake rapidly from side to side, causing my (long, limber) fingers to dually perform that single-handed clapping.  In the recent years, I have learned that “flapping” (done in many different ways) is one of those “stereotypies” associated with autism, or with Down’s, or with cognitive disabilities (mental retardation), or with any number of differences that are often socially ostracised.

Which to me does not make a whole lot of sense.  Seriously, WTF?  It does not harm anyone.  And if you have spent much time in North America and seen game shows like The Price Is Right, then you will have observed a lot of (ostensibly) neurotypical/normal people jumping up and down and flapping in their excitement at being called up to play.  But of course, someone will be sure to point out that is a “special circumstance” and that people who are chosen for the audience are selected because they are excited about the opportunity, and are outrageously dressed, and will generally perform in such highly exaggerated manner, and thus be good television fodder.  Well, perhaps.  But my point is that we all engage in stereotypies. (In a previous post, “Stimulating Topics of Conversation”, I noted that fiddling/stimming is another stereotypy that everyone does.)

Unfortunately, we also engage in stereotyping — it is almost impossible not to at some level, as creating such thought patterns is how the brain organises the world.  But we can be aware of and work against negative stereotypes that are socially harmful.

Of course, to deliver that reply effectively, I have to have a script that is not only thought-provoking and easy to remember (without tripping over the words), but is also SHORT.  And if you have read more than two of my posts, you know that brevity is not my strong suit!

But I know how to get around that in my brain. I turn ideas into bulleted points, which from force of teaching habit makes me distill things into highly condensed form, without a lot of jargon:

  • What exactly are you indicating to me?
  • I am not trying to provoke you, but I’d like you to think about something:
  • Does flapping mean I am stupid?
  • Does flapping mean I cannot do my job?
  • Does flapping hurt anyone?
  • But you are implying those things.
  • Even if you don’t believe them yourself, you are using and reinforcing negative stereotypes.
  • And I don’t believe that helps anyone.
  • So, think about it.

Of course, weeks or months may go by before the next event occurs.  We’ll see if I actually remember the gist of this, and can have enough self-awareness to advocate effectively.

The problem is that I get so in-the-moment that my awareness gets really tunneled — not my vision per se, but my ability to notice what-all is going on, and to also be able to interpret it.  Because of this “tunnelling”,  I spend most of my active processing trying to respond to the event both internally and externally. (Mind you, I’m normally a highly verbal person, so when I start having expressive issues, you know that I’m really taken aback by the situation.)

In this strangely configured moment, when time seems to simultaneously slow down yet slide by too fast, I am:

  1. realising that Yes, this really IS one of those moments, and then in an insecure silent panic, am double-checking my short-term memory to make sure I’m interpreting things correctly,
  2. and remembering Oh! I was going to do something different in response;
  3. and remembering what that was;
  4. and trying to recall the particular wording;
  5. and trying to emblazon some of the key words on my mental desktop so I don’t drop them halfway through the sentence;
  6. and trying to get the words out without losing one, getting clauses out of order, and/or tripping over them by stuttering or mumbling.

From years of speech therapy, I worked really hard to enunciate clearly.  I endeavoured to not use “um”, or “and uh”, what one of my English teachers referred to as “lazy parts of speech”.  Being so conscientious, plus frequently delivering long, scripted, grammatically-correct, fact-riddled announcements full of polysyllabic words earned me no lack of jibing for sounding stilted.  The ironic part is that sometimes I get dysnomic to the point that I don’t even say “um”, or “and uh”, which verbal place-holders would otherwise have alerted others that I was going to finish my sentence, and people have actually wandered off thinking that I was done talking. Not so useful!

Which-all means that by that point I am doing a lousy job of monitoring how others are responding.  Alas, this is the sort of moment when that would be most helpful.  Ditto having my auditory processing on “Record” so I could later reflect upon the chain of events.

Oh, well.  It might not be a “gold medal” response, but I think that recognising the situation and then being able to get my scripted response out is good enough for a bronze.  You think maybe?

The Crystal Ball Crack’d

The Kid recently took the ACT test, which like the SAT, is frequently used by colleges to determine scholastic abilities, and in his case helped place him for which college writing class he needed.  He had to ask his sister what the test was like, and her impressions about its difficulty level.  I could not personally provide any opinions, because I had never taken the ACT or SAT.

I never took them because no one thought I would go to college.

They made massive assumptions about my abilities and my future. So here’s what happened, and something to think about. I welcome you to please post comments, and more links to other positive blogs and sites.

My grades in secondary school grew worse over the years, and I had to re-take a semester in one class (English of all things, which in later years proved to be ironic when I became a freelance writer, with hundreds of items in print).

By this time in my life, my parents had divorced.  My dad lived in another state, and was even more of a non-player in my life.  Alas, my mother had spent years futilely trying to make me more “normal”, from requiring me to learn right-handed penmanship, enrolling me in a “charm school” at the local Sears & Roebucks to improve my feminine graces, and so on.  But as the years wore on, my faults (problems) became more and more apparent.  She no longer described me as “very bright”, but was quick to list all my failures and describe them in damning detail, until I was ready to vomit or pass out from the stress (though I never did, even though either would have been a relief).

By 9th grade it was apparent to all that I was not gifted scholastically, and the general consensus was that I was lazy, stupid at math, not trying hard enough, and acting up just to make her life difficult.  When she was drunk, my failures and interests and personality traits would be compared to her ex-husband’s, “you’re just like your father, the bastard”.  Even as much of a socially-clueless 14 year old that I was, I knew that these kinds of comments were untrue and inappropriate, and the problem was with her attitudes and her drinking.  But they still hurt, terribly.

I would not be diagnosed with ADHD, Auditory Processing Disorder, and Prosopagnosia until I was in my 40’s.  Such diagnosis hardly existed in those days; certainly my difficulties were not considered to be due to anything but my own personal failings.

No way, my family and school officials decided, could I be college material.  I could not keep track of my assignments, I still struggled to learn and remember my multiplication facts into 8th grade, and I flunked or barely passed classes.

Given my social difficulties and subsequent lack of dating, and even my utter lack of domestic abilities (mom warned me off taking a sewing class because doing so would “ruin my GPA” - grade point average), I was obviously not highly marriageable. This was the 1970s, and most people still thought along those lines — an astonishing number of girls went to college to “get their MRS”.

The goal then was to get me some kind of minimal trade training, so I would, as she fiercely reminded me many times, not be a burden on the family. It was made plain to me that once I graduated high school, and then later turned 18, I was to be out on my own.  I should not expect financial assistance from her.

So I was enrolled in typing, which was a miserable experience beyond the whole ordinary ordeal of learning to type on manual typewriters.  The room was a cacophony of noise.  The instructor was adamant about constant attention to task, proper posture, and graded with the intent on us producing perfection — as soon as a student produced a typographical error, then the score was made. (Additionally, the students’ pages were  held up to the light against her perfect copies to check centering and spacing). There were many days when I would produce an entire page that was otherwise perfect but for a typo in the second line, and my grade would be an F because I had such a low word-count.  Given my problems with developing manual speed, tracking text (near-point copying), attention, and transposing letters and numbers, I struggled to get a C grade.

But the clerical work that was deemed best for me also required taking bookkeeping.  Not surprisingly, this was also a very difficult class for me.  My aptitudes and interests were not really taken into consideration, because after all, even if writing and science and art were what I liked best, I had not done well in those classes, now had I?  Besides, clerical work was what my mother knew, so like many parents she expected me to follow occupational suit.

Unlike many such students, my story has a relatively happy ending.  I did manage to graduate high school, to everyone’s relief.  A year later, I even enrolled in an evening class at the local community college.  College classes were not easy, partly from my intrinsic difficulties, partly from not having the necessary study skills, and partly from not having a solid academic background.

But the glory of the American system is that such colleges provide opportunities for adults of all ages to acquire the these things, and to gain higher education. I worked hard, and slowly figuring out how I learned, which was not always in the ways that others thought I should study.  Sometimes I had to drop a class and re-try it later on, to finish it successfully. Later on in my 40’s I was to also get some of my issues diagnosed.

I now have a Master’s of Science. I teach college students.  No one would have expected this based upon my previous performance. (Employers who place near-complete trust in Behavioral-Based Interviewing, please note!)  And this point, amongst all the others about the perils of attribution errors, and learning disabilities, and dysfunctional families, this point is crucial:

A child’s future abilities cannot always be predicted,

when based upon their current abilities.

Many parents of children who have developmental disorders worry that their children will never be able to attend school, or finish school, or go on to college, or hold a job, or live on their own, or be loved by a partner, or have a family, or talk, or be potty-trained, or any number of milestones.  Just because the child cannot do the same things that their age peers can do, or are expected to do.

This is one of the biggest points of contention or discussion between the “autism community” (parents of autistic children) and the “autistic community” (children, teens and adults who are autistic, and many of whom are parents as well).  Even beyond the farcical assumptions that either community is monolithic with regards to attitudes and knowledge and politics et cetera, there are inherent issues that need to be mutually addressed.

One of the best resources for the autism communities are the autistic communities.  If parents go around just talking to other parents, especially those other parents who are consumed by the “Terrible Tragedy and Selfless Suffering Families” world-views, they may fall prey to this easy assumption:  If my child can’t do it now, he’ll never be able to do it, and our lives will be ruined.

Sure, not everyone takes it to that extreme.  Sure, there are a few children who do not achieve many of those life-goals.  But those lack of achievements does NOT automatically mean that their lives are ruined, or their families’ lives are ruined. They do NOT automatically mean that people cannot live relatively happy, healthy, and productive lives.

Please do NOT assume that not being able to use speech as a reliable means of communication is the same as not being able to think, or not being able to communicate, or not having anything to communicate.

Please do not assume that because a child does not learn in a traditional manner that they are learning “the wrong way”, or that they cannot learn at all, or that they must be taught “remedial learning lessons”.

Please do know that even when children have problems, and are slower to acquire skills, they are not doomed.

Please do not give up on them.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot.”

~First words (at age 35) of an autistic man [quote source]

I welcome you to please post comments, and more links to other positive blogs and sites. Kindly see the newly-updated “NOTES TO COMMENTERS” box in the top of the left sidebar for important information. Read the rest of this entry »

Grab mental stick and–

A white picket fence with some daylilies growing near the end

A white picket fence with some daylilies growing near the end

Prescription for Thought

This belated post is especially for Debora, who asked for my impressions about ADD/ADHD medications for children.  (Disclaimer: I am not a doctor, nor do I play one on television.)

Medicating kids or adults for ADHD is a sticky topic.  Everyone has opinions!  Like many topics of heated discussion, usually everyone has several good points to make, and there are always a few people who take things to absurd extremes.  So let’s look at these points individually.  (I’ve boldfaced the points, so if you’ve already reached a state of analysis on that point, you can skip to the next one.)

Does ADD/ADHD even exist?  Is it just some scam made up by drug companies to make money?

Some years ago I received an email from someone who had decided the latter. I replied back with the following, which I have updated to reflect new information: Read the rest of this entry »

A few updates

The 92nd Edition of the Skeptic’s Circle is up, and The Lay Scientist gives us the latest press conference news as given by the Team Skeptic Manager Martin, from the state-of-the-art Olympic training facility in Beijing!  Prepare to be amazed — but never bamboozled.

The July issue of the Pain-blog Carnival is now up at How to Cope With Pain blog.  Readers share a variety of subjective experiences and treatment information.

Speaking of things painful, I put up a couple of photographs I modified to demonstrate some of the visual disturbances I experience during migraines.  Due to the trigger potential, I put these on a special page.  (The images are described for those with impaired vision.)  Alas, the Kid was laid flat by a migraine today — the preventative meds certainly help reduce the numbers of attacks, but they don’t completely eliminate them.  However, he reports that the new medication is a definite improvement over the old one, wooziness notwithstanding. A quiet “Hooray” for this encouraging news.

And although the timing isn’t quite “news” anymore, it’s not so late for it to be “olds”, so do check out the 42nd Disability Blog Carnival over at Pitt Rehab, where Greg gives us a break from the usual busyness for some summery relaxation at the beach, and plenty of great links.

As for me, I have to blame day-long teacher training class all week for my dearth of posting.  It’s been really good, but so intense — having to sit and focus on attending, listening, and learning for hours on end is hard.  Every day I run an errand right after class, and then come home to crash for a 20-minute catnap for my brain to do some filing before I can even think about cooking dinner.  The fatigue is a good reminder of what it’s like for all our students!

(Now if only the tinnitus would Shut Up.)

P.S.  Time to play ADD hide-and-seek: if you were a $100 calculator left in some random location by a teenager, where would you be?

P.P.S.  We already checked the breadbox.

Stop me, I’m having too much fun!

/SARCASM

I keep fixing things around here, increasingly with the wonderful help of the Kid (who at 17 now has skillz in home repairs unmatched by his dad, which is a satisfying thing when you’re a teen).

The bad news is the increasing apparency of a 2b/f ratio, where 2 things break for every 1 thing fixed.  I replaced the garbage disposal, and one of the brackets for the shower towel rack broke, chipping the tub enamel as it fell.  I replaced a shower head, and the textured ceiling crap is coming off the bathroom ceiling (necessitating scraping it ALL off, then painting on sealant primer and ceiling white), and apparently I need to unclog the P-trap to the bathroom sink.  We replaced a light fixture in one bedroom, and I observe that the ants have found a new inlet around the kitchen sink/window, and a curtain tie breaks, spilling beads all over the floor.  We replaced a light fixture in another bedroom and two more garments get added to the mending pile.

And so it goes. Which is partly grousing and partly an explanation for why I’ve not finished several posts.

(Oh–there’s another bead…)

Hate crime spinning out of control

I spent many happy hours spinning around in circles as a child: on the front lawn with arms flung out, on the back yard swing, wheeling in circles on my bike at the end of the cul-de-sac, circling with one hand clinging to the post that held up the floor joist I-beam in the basement, and of course, on the small merry-go-round of the gradeschool playground. Spinning is fun!  (Especially so if you can do so for long periods without even getting vertigo.)

But none of our neighbors ever threatened to burn down our house because I was twirling around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around.  Not like this horrific man in Seattle, Mark Joe Levison, who apparently found the sight of a 13-year old boy, Anthony Engen, playing outside or (oh-my-gosh!) looking at his yard to be too antagonising.

The only redeeming features in such a news item is that the police took his threats seriously, as apparently the man has quite the record of charges for assault and felonies in two states.  Moreover, he has been charged with “malicious harassment”, which is Washington’s hate-crime law.

Yes, a news source is actually referring to such threats made against someone just because they are obviously autistic as a hate crime.  Sadly, I am noting this because it is not common.

(Where are we going, and what are we doing in this handbasket?!)

Anxiety: not knowing where things are going

cropped photograph of a highway bridge under construction, showing heavy I-beams looming beyond the column support

cropped photograph of a highway bridge under construction, showing bare I-beams looming beyond the column support

Congratulations!

Are due to the Kid, who managed to hang in there through the finish of the scholastic year, despite various difficulties with the school setting. The cool part is that (after securing the Official Paperwork from the school), our high school junior then went on to take the GED test and passed with flying colors, thus earning the equivalent of a high school diploma.

While the rest of his former cohort is gearing up to start their senior year of high school, our son is finishing up a second college class, and is enrolled for the fall term as a full-time college freshman.

Even better, he says that this is the first time in years since the sight of stores filled with school supplies has not filled him with dread. Additionally, having a summer job doing construction labor has made him realise the value of further education, and even given him moments of, “I wish I were in class.” We’ve not seen this kind of scholastic enthusiasm in years.

Way to go, guy!  We’re proud of you.

a blonde 12-month old boy seated on a chair, reaching up and pecking at the keyboard to an early 1990's personal computer

a blond 12-month old boy seated on a chair, reaching up and pecking at the keyboard to an early 1990's personal computer

Meet the Zebras

A large, black and white striped butterfly nectaring no a purple coneflower

A large, black and white striped butterfly nectaring on a purple coneflower

In the field of medicine, there’s a saying that, “If you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras.” This means that although medical students will learn of a great many odd diseases, some of them are quite exotic (”zebras”), but that most patients’ complaints will resolve to common causes (”horses”).

Which of course does not mean that one won’t encounter “zebras”.  Once a very great while there will be someone with the rare genetic disorder or unusual psychological glitch.  Mayhap even someone with several rare genetic disorders and unusual psychological glitches!  This insect profile post is dedicated to all you readers out there who are “zebras”.  (Wave to the crowd folks; let them know that “rare” is not synonymous with “you’ll never meet them”.)

Like medical zebras, Zebra Swallowtails (Papilionidae: Eurytides marcellus) are rare amongst butterflies.  They are not endangered, but unlike Monarchs, Cabbage Whites or Painted Ladies, you don’t see these zebras very often.  This is a big butterfly, about 6-9 cm (2.5-3.5″) wide.  They live in the eastern half of North America, and can be found wafting around the borders between fields and woods or streams.  The reason such a large and striking butterfly lives in such obscurity is not for limitations in ecotone; it will live most anywhere but montane and alpine zones. It’s not even limited by breeding season; there are two broods in northern populations, and four broods in southern.

Rather, they are rare because the larvae are monophagous (a fancy word for “only eats one kind of thing” — a parent might lament, “My child is seemingly monophagous upon Goldfish crackers”).  Well, plenty of catepillars out there are picky.  But Zebra Swallowtail ‘pillars will only eat the leaves of pawpaw trees (Asimina triloba) and other species of the genus.  Unlike the ubiquitous callery flowering pear trees or purple barberry shrubs, homeowners and parks managers do not go around planting pawpaws.  Unacommodated by the lack of host plants, the butterflies spend their lives beyond the outskirts of the developed world. Only butterfly enthusiasts and rare fruit fanciers who go around planting pawpaws Just Because, or residents of diversified country wilds will have much hope of seeing zebras.

It’s not that medical or butterfly zebras don’t exist, but that you have to know where to find them.  You also have to be willing to support their particular needs to have the opportunity to get to know them.  But either one of those conditions requires understanding that zebras even exist.  Yes, you might even (gasp!) have one in Your Back Yard!  It’s true.  And now that you have a better search image, I guarantee that you will be much more likely to meet them.

Now you have one, so do it!

TUIT

A wooden disk printed: TUIT

Cartoon: “Efficiency”

This cartoon is composed of four pages,

each of which bears a caption at the bottom of the page.

What, weighting scores?

Andrea’s Buzzing About: “Efficiency” A female Geek and older female User are seated at a desk, where the Geek is giving the User some instruction in how to use a program. A male Techie stops by the door. Geek to User: "... so you need to set up a user file with the ID 'foo@farble'; save that before moving onto the next step. --Yes?" Techie to Geek: "Here is the report doc." Geek to Techie: "Did the update load?" Techie replies: "Good-for-go with 3.0; included in the backup." Geek replies: "Excellent, thank you." The Techie leaves without further ado. Geek continues to User: "Now, the next step is to set up the database; you can do this with weighted or unweighted scores, the former being used for --" User: "How rude!" Geek: "What, weighting scores?"


Read the rest of this entry »

Stories of Yesteryear (II)

I found these several-years-old tales while looking for something else — you know how that goes!  Meanwhile, I have a report, a PowerPoint, an assignment, a summary and remarks to complete in the next 48 hours, so once again there’s not much time for new stuff.  However, I have found the background material to answer someone’s ADHD question and will post that in a couple of days.

(Previous Stories of Yesteryear.)

It is Saturday evening and we are having a family movie night.  I have made buttered popcorn, and remembered to put the lid on the air popper this time!  My son has made a pitcher of lemonade, and daughter is busy digging through the piles of VHS and DVDs.  Our video cabinet has an almost surreal quality – like the wardrobe that leads to Narnia, it seems bigger on the inside than the outside, and more than once most of my  daughter has disappeared within its depths as she digs through the movies.

After much vociferous discussion we decide to watch a Star Trek show, the Deep Space Nine episode “Trials and Tribblations”.  We have all see this episode several times, and are delivering the especially funny lines of dialog along with the actors, as well as making accessory comments along the way.

In the show, Odo and Worf are at the bar, trying to not to stand out, but being aliens, failing to do so.  “You know,” I remark during an action lull, “I always sympathized with Odo – he tries so hard to fit in, but never quite makes it.”

My son laughs, “Just like you, Mom.”

And I grin at him. Read the rest of this entry »

This post is for

Elizabeth McClung of the Screw Bronze! blog.

This beebalm flower struck me as being kinda goth-like in form, so I spiffed it up for you, because more is more.  Thinking of ye, gal, take care!

(a single red beebalm flower, accentuated with "gloom" highlighting)

(a single red beebalm flower, accentuated with "gloom" highlighting)

Effects of Testosterone Poisoning on Frontal Lobe Functioning

A photograph of the rear end of a pickup truck bumper, with fake rubber bull testicles hanging from the tow hitch.  Seriously.

Freedom for Thought

“The notion that a radical is one who hates his country is naïve and usually idiotic. He is, more likely, one who likes his country more than the rest of us, and is thus more disturbed than the rest of us when he sees it debauched. He is not a bad citizen turning to crime; he is a good citizen driven to despair.”
~H. L. Mencken

The 4th of July is Independence Day in the United States. I have a couple of reports to finish, so I don’t have time to write what would be an involved rant. So here are some of my favorite quotes, and a couple of graphics for you, regardless of where you live. (Graphics described for the print-impaired.)  We miss the recently deceased George Carlin; good humorists and satirists are always sorely missed!  For the young and/or those living abroad, Walter Cronkite was a news announcer of the thoughtful sort, before the era of ‘anchor desk personalities”.

Let’s just say that I am not impressed with knee-jerk patriotism (especially the drunken sort) that lacks critical thinking and the willingness to be informed.  I will say that within the realm of governance, freedom and safety are obverse and reverse of the same coin — when you have more of one, you have less of the other, and the current administration has sold an alarming amount of loss of freedom under the flag-waving of “safety, patriotism and national security”.

“The people who cast the votes decide nothing, the people who count the votes decide everything.”
~Josef Stalin

“The heights of popularity and patriotism are still the beaten road to power and tyranny.”
~David Hume

“If crime fighters fight crime, and fire fighters fight fire, then what do freedom fighters fight? They never mention that to us, do they?”
~ George Carlin

“There is no such thing as a little freedom. Either you are all free, or you are not free.”
~Walter Cronkite

“People demand freedom of speech as a compensation for the freedom of thought which they seldom use.”
~Søren Kierkegaard

ditto: “Too often we…enjoy the comfort of opinion without the discomfort of thought.”
~John F. Kennedy (former US president) Read the rest of this entry »

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